“For yourself?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And who is the young lady?”
“Miss Georgiana Morland, your grace.”
“Morland, Morland… father was Sir George Morland, eh?”
“Yes, your grace.”
“Why not call the banns? She’s a perfectly respectable lady.”
“You see, your grace…” Peter’s mouth had never been so dry. “It all started with the otters.”
The archbishop’s eyes closed briefly, as if in pain, before re-opening to fix Peter with a single look. “Will this be alongstory, Avondale?”
“No, your grace.” Confession was proving harder than he had realized it would be. “You see, Miss Morland… Miss Morland has been living at the Kilbythorpe rectory for the past five weeks. With me.”
As the archbishop turned an alarming shade of scarlet, Peter realized his mistake.
“Perfectly respectably, your grace! There has not been one moment of impropriety between us.” The kiss in his shadowed study suddenly impressed itself on his memory. “Well, perhapsonemoment. But now, of course, we must marry as quickly and discreetly as possible.”
Peter launched into the explanation he had rehearsed all the way to York—the unexpected arrival of the otters, Georgie’s even more unexpected arrival, their budding friendship, his realization both that she was a woman and that they must marry—and ended with an attempt at a winning smile.
The archbishop removed his spectacles to rub his forehead and then replaced them. He looked as though he very much wanted to say some of the phrases he now used only whilst on the hunting-grounds.
“Did you come prepared?”
“Of course, your grace.” Peter reached into his pocket to bring out the papers he had carefully folded away. “I have everything needed for a bishop’s license. I have her sworn statement witnessed by my curate, Mr. Lumley, that she is over the age of twenty-one and a spinster. I have my own statement here as well, attesting to my age and bachelorhood. And, of course, I have brought the fee for your clerk.”
The archbishop held out his hand, and Peter gave him the documents. He watched, heart in his mouth, as the archbishop paged through them, seeming to examine them for any small flaw he could use to deny Peter’s request.
“And her guardian?”
“She is well past the age to have a guardian—she turned three-and-twenty in February. Her cousin holds the baronetcy, but he is… I do not feel she would be safe with him.”
“Is that why she ran away?”
“She went in search of her otters—or, rather, the Regent’s otters, originally given to her father. Fortunately, they were sent to me in error and… here we are.”
“Indeed.” The archbishop looked as though he was torn between asking for more details and not wanting to be delayed any longer than necessary.
He removed his spectacles and gazed at Peter for a long moment before he spoke again.
“Marriage is a serious business, Avondale. Your faults have mostly been born of your desire to help coupled with an impulsive nature. Be sure your desire to rescue a lady in distress does not mislead your heart in this matter, or you will be in for an unhappy future.”
Dutifully, Peter took a moment to reflect. To his own surprise, he had no doubts. Oh, he was concerned about his own future actions—about his ability to provide for her, about the best way to break the news of his marriage to his family,about where they would live when he was freed of Kilbythorpe to return to his work in London—but he had no doubts about making Georgie his wife. In truth, he felt it would be the wisest thing he had ever done.
He raised his head and looked the archbishop in the eye. “It does not, your grace,” Peter said firmly. “I know both her faults and her virtues after spending these weeks in her company. I have no doubts about marrying her.”
The archbishop gazed at him for a long moment before nodding with a grunt. “Very well.”
Peter puffed out the breath he had not realized he had been holding. “Thank you, your grace.” Gathering his courage once more, Peter said, “I have one more hope, your grace.”
“Well, what is it?”
“Miss Morland is here at Bishopthorpe. I am hoping you would be so kind as to perform the ceremony yourself rather than us returning to St. Alcuin’s.”
